Harry, Beyond Fantasy
by Baryv
Summary: Roleplaying book in one hand, magic in the other, he will shake the world to it's very core. - Non native. First FF. Reviews are appreciated.
1. Chapter 1 - The Gift

Quivering hands gripped the edge of the roof with untold strength for a eight year old. Sweat made its path across his pale cheeks, whitening them even more if possible. For the rest of the school, Harry Potter was a mystery. If you asked about him, you would probably find something between the lines of «Lonely, asocial boy», and «Creepy weirdo who reads all day».

And they were right. He liked the solitude, he liked a good book, even more if said book was about something fantastic. And above all, he was a totally incorrigible nerd... If you left aside suddenly disappearing from the schoolyard to the library's roof.

'Okay, Harry, breathe,' thought heatedly. He took a look at his surroundings, evening his heart rate and convincing himself that this wasn't another dream where he had magic, or, as his favorite book put it, The Gift. Trying to recapitulate, he remembered when something happened around him, and found plenty of times, to his dismay.

That time when Petunia cut his hair like a military after getting better marks than his cousin. When he stumbled on the stairs, getting a breach in the forehead. When his aunt tried again and again to dye his hair in horrible, unspeakable colors, and it got back to normal the day after… In the past, he didn't saw this things as not common, disregarding them as nothing for fear of awakening the rage of uncle Vernon against his oddities. But now, this wasn't something that he could pass on as nothing, and as a wry grin etched into his face, he accepted something inside him.

He, Harry James Potter, had The Gift.

Salto de Linea

He, Harry James Potter, was scared shitless.

All the way to the house his anxiety kept growing without restraint, gnawing his chest not unlike a ravenous hound, festering on his fears.

Dudley, as always, was behind him a good tree or five hundred meters. He didn´t say anything when they were again in class, didn't even glanced at him suspiciously like he feared. Just the usual - somewhat heated - glares of disdain.

For all that he knew, Dudley was none the wiser about his lucky disappearance, thank all magic for that one.

Once inside the house and his backpack in the cupboard, he made his way towards the kitchen, willing to end all of his chores as quickly as possible to lock himself up in the safety of the cupboard

Once his cousin made it home, his worries lessened a whole lot when the theory of him being none the wiser was made a fact. 'Perfect' he thought happily, now he only had to end doing everything, and then, he would be back at reading.

Salto de linea

Everything done, and no danger nearby, Harry grabbed something under the pile of debris that he called bed, and held in front of himself a rather large book. _Anima, Beyond Fantasy_ read the title.

It was a slightly bad treated book, with wrinkles in the edges of the cardboard cover. Harry encountered it in the library a year ago, and since then, his love for the volume had only increased. With a respect that would made every librarian nod in approbation, he opened it in the chapter eleven.

_The Magic._

_Magic is a fundamental element in any role system, and also It is in Anima. Its power nourishes the sorcerers and allows them to alter it essence of reality itself. It is the principle on which are based Supernatural beings and mystical objects alike. In this chapter we will see the bases on the ones that sustain the magic, the execution of the spells and how the characters can use them in their favor._

Every single time he read that paragraph, his insides moved pleasantly and a giddy like sound escaped his throat. Since he could remember, he always had a fascination for everything that depicted magic or the supernatural in any level, form or shape.

Passing the section that explained Magical Theory like the affinity of certain branches with certain places or feelings, he got directly to the next section.

_The Gift._

_The Gift is the principle by which magic manifests. It's the name that receives the ability of some people to handle the mystical forces._

_Those born with such a blessing (or curse) are called sorcerers. Their souls possess not only the ability to attract and feel mystical energies but also that of mastering their power and altering reality. The reasons why only a few possess the Don are unknown. Some entities maintain the theory that every living being has the ability to control magic, and that the Don it is merely the stage in which the soul has managed to awaken its true power. Even so, there is a real difference between the essence of those born with the Gift and the rest of living beings. Normally, sorcerers are not even aware that they have the gift. _

_Throughout their lives they unconsciously use the magic and have different sensations from others, but not They never manage to dominate their power. During their childhoods, these children they suffer serious problems, since they handle incomprehensible forces for them and they are not always able to control. Only those sorcerers who end up having access to arcane knowledge or a Appropriate learning, they really become sorcerers. The Gift is an exceptionally rare ability. In Gaïa, only one in ten thousand humans has it, although the proportion of who become true sorcerers in the shade is even lower._

Someone might call him stupid for basing all his magical knowledge on a _Roleplaying_ book, but, what more he had?

He didn't have any tutors, and certainly didn't neither have any Arcane volumes.

Scoffing at the thought of his uncles hiding magical knowledge under the stairs, he continued his reading.

_ACT and Zeon._

_The ACT and the Zeon are the basis of the Anima magic system. The Zeon is the Mystic energy controlled by sorcerers. It is the amount of power they have, the "magic points" that can be invested in performing spells. The very "Zeon" word means "Wonders of God", although it is only one of many names that he receives, like Manna or Erzvayu. ACT is the abbreviation of "Accumulation by Turn", and represents the speed with which a sorcerer can dispose of his power. The higher its accumulation, the sorcerer can concentrate more quickly it's energies and perform more powerful spells in less time. All people have ACT and Zeon, although only those who possess the Gift are capable of developing them._

_Always try to maintain a balance between both skills. A sorcerer with a lot of magic accumulation but little Zeon can throw very powerful spells quickly, but the number of times it will It will be scarce. On the contrary, if you have a very low ACT you will need several rounds even to perform the simplest spell, being unable to respond in time in an urgent situation. The usual recommendation for players is that his characters develop on average ten times their ACT in Zeon points (it is say, a character with a 50-point ACT should have at least 500 Zeon points), although it is only an indicative suggestion._

In his eyes, the solution was having as much as you can of both. Because accumulating quickly didn't mean that you couldn't use minor spells repeatedly in a short amount of time.

The next section summarized the process of performing spells, and how some spells might need only a moment, and how others would require long periods of time. A logical thing if you thought it.

Eagerly, he stored the book under his bed, taking a comfortable position, Harry closed his eyes trying to remember that pleasant tingling when he disappeared or something strange happened around him.

Seconds, minutes, _hours _passed, but he remained impassive. _Trying _with all his will, heart and soul, to call his magic and unleash it upon the material world…

And _then_, he felt it. A warmth spread across his body, blanketing Harry's soul in an embrace not unlike one belonging to a loving mother long loss.

A lonely tear, mixture of absolute joy, and crippling sadness, ran across his cheek, caressing it.

'Feels like home' were his last thought before darkness covered everything.

_**Hello there!**_

_**I really hope you enjoyed reading the prologue of "**_**Harry, Beyond Fantasy" **_**as much as I did writing it!**_

_**In the case you have questions, criticism, or simply want to say something, the review box and my pm's are open to everyone!**_

_**Please, if you see a grammatical error, tell me. English isn´t my firs language, and im using this FF as something akin to practicing.**_

_**Without more delay, I leave you to your own business, thanks again!**_

_**Farewell,**_

_**Baryv.**_


	2. Chapter 2 - Of Castles and Sortings

Phew! There it is, a new chapter. I'm sorry for the waiting around, but I'm trying to find my own style of writing, coupling that with writing in a language I'm not proficient with, and you have a recipe for disaster.

One way or another, I'll try to be more consistent and update more.

Lastly, please, leave a review. It helps me grow as a writer, allowing me to bring you better and better content each time.

Enjoy!

* * *

A wand twirled between dexterous young fingers as his owner stared at the rather boring wooden ceiling. Harry had done his first battery of buys the first day he knew about the Alley, staying at the leaking cauldron since then. Lying and trickery made sure that Vernon wouldn't come back.

One nuisance less, Harry focused his days in controlling as best as he can his well of Zeon. Influencing the minds and bodies of others was still beyond his comprehension and possibilities, but he could manage a **Regenerate** and **Lesser Darksight **on himself, they weren't too taxing, and came in handy when dealing with small cuts and bruises or raiding the fridge

The wand… The owner of a shop in Knockturn Alley, where he bought his spare, told him that the one sold by Ollivanders came with a tracker that would activate if used in muggle area. He hoped that a well-placed **Obfuscate Magic** got rid of it.

God, he loved the Darkness branch.

The pointy stick helped at accumulating and directing his magic, but the spells on his schoolbooks were far difficult to cast, mainly because they drew Zeon from the ambient and not from himself, thus making it less malleable than handling his own soul energies. The upside was that he didn't tire out nearly as much, so it could come in handy when he depleted his reserves.

A sharp knock told him that his meal was ready and closing off his tome of 'Hogwarts, a History' Harry got down to the pub, grinning like a loony while he imagined the possibilities that the Forbidden Forest and the Library could offer him.

He was in for _very_ interesting school year.

* * *

The rattle of the speeding train soothed Harry, but didn't took away his worries.

He was worried about the curriculum of the school. Sure, it was the best in whole Great Britain, but the amount of classes that were dropped in the last century or two were _worrying_.

Rituals, Alchemy, Animism, Forgery and Dark Arts, all of them, erased from the school. And the more 'mundane' subjects like basic math or even just biology and basic science, weren't even _mentioned_.

The books told him that electricity and magic didn't mesh well, making circuits shortcut or stopping entirely, or that muggles were beasts without an ounce of knowledge or defensive capabilities.

That was _utter bullshit._

He tried turning on the basic smartphone he snatched of his cousin when he broke the screen and cried to get another, and it _worked_, perfectly at that. Even after a small **Lesser Reconstruct **to fix that annoying broken screen. This opened an infinite amount of possibilities to mesh the mundane and arcane, creating Tecnomagic.

The crux of the matter was _why._ The answer, of course, was control.

Control your population, make it think that mundane and arcane cant co-exist, then erase and ban the subjects that you don't like the populace knowing about, and _voilà_, you got an entire world full of _shepherd_.

'_Disgusting,'_ thought Harry with repulsion. He loved knowledge, and the mere idea of holding and hoarding it like a dragon made his stomach churn with unease. _'Well, I'll have to buy my own mundane books.'_

He couldn't teleport, yet. So he'll have to ask some elf of the castle to get the books for him…

A knock on the door got him out of his musings and worries. It was a bushy haired girl, with remarkable almost-bunny teeth. She cleared her throat, making harry arc a brow.

"Excuse me, Neville here lost his frog, Trevor. Did you perchance saw it?" Then, the girl noticed the book in his hands, a small tome of 'Minor Charms and Hexes'. "Are you studying the first year books too? I already read 'Hogwarts, a History' a pair of times. What do you think the selection ceremony will be? I'm nervous but I think I'm prepar-"

The girl went on and on and _on._ Harry started to get pissed, and letting the book fall on the seat of the compartment, he got up, and stared in the eye at the boy behind the girl, who still had to say a single word. "Where," asked Harry impatiently, and with a trembling finger, he pointed to the north of the train, stopping the bushy haired one on its tracks.

Harry simply nodded, and then started walking while casting a **Lesser Notice**, and suddenly everything was brighter and clearer. The eccentric pair didn't follow him, instead opting to stay in his compartment.

Looking at every room through the window, Harry eventually came across an empty compartment, where a green speck contrasted brightly against the red tapestry of the train seats. Pumping Zeon in a little spell-less magic, he got the frog up, and got back to his own segment of the train.

The toad recovered, and the problem solved, Harry submerged himself in a random book, ignoring totally the pair of kids, whose names were Hermione and Neville, if his eavesdropping was on point.

The trek to the castle didn't take any unusual turn or nasty surprise, and Harry was pleased by it.

However, that wouldn't last.

* * *

The gates to the Great Hall opened with a loud creak, signaling the arrival of the first years to the castle. Everyone felt the gazes of seven years of students wash over them, making the majority shiver and cower in the face of such unexpected attention.

The first names were called and sorted. Every house cheered when there was an addition to them, but Harry wasn't paying this any attention whatsoever. Only when his own name were called did he paid any attention to anything other than the Zeon that was rolling off _everything._ He wouldn't be surprised if the castle itself had an Ego after centuries upon centuries of magic being cast between its walls.

Harry strode with confidence towards the hat, hoping to get sorted into Ravenclaw, where he could attract the less attention if he secluded himself in his study of magic, or, if it wasn't possible, Hufflepuff, where he could attract the less attention by putting up a façade of friendliness while he studied and prepared the bases of his power, socially and magically.

Picture him _extremely_surprised to hear the Sorting Hat shout "GRYFFINDOR!" the exact moment it touched his head.

"_I'm sorry little one. This isn't my doing." _Heard the Potter in his head before the piece of cloth was removed abruptly by Professor McGonnagal. Stunned, Harry walked to the red and golden table, whose occupants where loudly cheering "We have Potter, we have Potter!" again and again.

Harry's head snapped abruptly towards the professors table the moment Albus Dumbledore got up and talking, "the very best evenings to you! Now… To our new students, welcome, to our old ones, welcome back! Another year full of magical educations awaits you…" then proceeded to give a speech about how magic in the corridors was forbidden, that the Forbidden Forest was, obviously, _forbidden_, and how one of the corridors on the third floor was off limits if you didn't wanted a violent, _bloody_ death.

Harry was speechless. _Why_ would you put something that could kill in a _school _full of _children,_ only to then _announce it?!_

He decided that it wasn't his problem, and if someone got killed, at least he would get fired, greatest wizard of the time or not.

The Feast continued without problem, there was a nuisance or two, namely Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger and their bickering, but at the end the Prefects took them to their rooms, quadruple rooms at that.

Harry frowned, he liked his privacy, and being forced to share room with another three occupants made him twitchy. He would need to find an empty classroom, or learn privacy spells as fast as he could, one way or another; he needed privacy to practice and silence to study.

He would need to find _who_ placed him in the gold and red house, but the culprit gas glaringly obvious, _Albus Dumbledore._ Why did he wanted Harry here in particular, he didn't know, and it worried him.

Tired, mentally and physically, he got into his bed without a word to his roommates, and started practicing with the Darkness branch the moment the lights went out. If he wanted to practice magic undisturbed, he would need to obscure his spells and presence as much as he could, and that meant lots and lots of practice and experimentation by his part.

Before he fell asleep like a rock, he wondered if he could create a version of **Obfuscate Magic** to use on living beings such as himself.

Maybe, or maybe not. One way or another, this year will prove of being full of surprises.


	3. Chapter 3 - Shivers and Tears

**AN: Well, here it is, another chapter freshly written within the span of a day.**

**Please, enjoy and leave a review!**

* * *

**Hogwarts, September 2nd.**

Hermione woke up way before her Gryffindor roommates did, eager to reread everything she could before the term actually started.

The castle was amazing! It was everything she hoped it to be; gargantuan libraries, magical doors and corridors, and even _ghosts!_ How did they were created? Did they needed especificial conditions or any place with pent-up magic would serve? What did they feel?

That and much, _much_ more made falling asleep a titanic quest, but the day her magical education started had finally come, and she couldn't be more happy even if she tried.

They first had Charms with the Ravenclaws, and it seemed that only she and Harry Potter managed to do the levitation charm correctly, getting two points each, and the thinly veiled jealousy of their classmates.

That put a slight dent in her mood, after all, she hoped that Hogwarts would be different — a place where she could make friends, but she still had hope.

It followed with Transfiguration, Herbology, History of Magic, and Astronomy.

She excelled in the three last, but Harry beat her at Transfiguration. He made it seem _so_ easy, that she couldn't help herself at throwing him allenging look.

Maybe, just maybe they could be friends, even if said friendship was based only in their near equal apparent love of magic and study.

* * *

Harry breathed a sigh of relief, _at last_ free of that bushy haired nightmare, free to cater to his desires of exploring the castle, it didn't mattered that it was past curfew, a good **Shadow** made sure that he was hard to find, and near invisible in obscured areas.

Even after that, he felt like something was creeping up his spine, breathing down his neck. Every time he looked back he just saw an eerily silent empty corridor, but he _knew it,_ something was following him, and it wasn't something pleasant if how he locked up in fear every time he heard anything out of the ordinary was something to go about.

But one thing was sure; _there's something __**wrong**_ _at this castle._

**September, 6th.**

Harry had problems sleeping.

Since he started exploring Hogwarts, he couldn't get the feeling off him of being followed, watched, _stalked_.

It was slowly driving him mad, and only pumping up his studies about Runes and Wards, in hopes of making his own Sancta Sanctorum. If he's going to pass seventy months of his life here, better to make it as comfy as possible.

He already had plans with his own body, after all, what wizard worth of their title didn't buffed himself as much as possible?

Checking the schedule while ignoring his roommates, Harry started striding towards the Dungeons. Today he had his first potions class with Snape, and if the rumors were true, it wasn't going to be a pleasant class.

He got paired with Hermione, and suppressing a groan of exasperation, he gave his best smile, when it appeared that she was going to talk to him, Snape decided to interrupt, "ah yes, _Potter, _our new celebrity," the venom in his tone was almost dripping, making Harry frown.

"Tell me, Potter, what do I got if I brew together powdered root of Asphodel and wormwood?" without even giving him time to respond, he started talking again, battering against him question after question without giving him any to answer whatsoever, and then going on an rant about how he could teach them the wonders of potionmaking if they weren't a bunch of idiots. Once he finished, a whitering glare was fired upon the whole class, "why are you not taking notes?" said with a sneer on his face.

The moment Harry got his writing supplies out, a "POTTER! What do you think are you doing?" was heard, Harry, with his pen and notebook at hand, looked sligthly stunned at his professor.

"Getting my notebook out, _sir._"

"Five more points of Gryffindor for your cheek, and put that muggle garbage out of my sight." Harry simply stared at Snape with rising hatred. "I won't, because I don't have anything more to write on. Besides, notebooks and pens are far more useful than quills and parchment. There's tradition, then there's being _stupid._"

The class gasped with surprise, and Snape had his whole face red with barely contained rage. Without a word, he vanished his supplies, and ordered him detention until the end of year.

Harry got up and left the class, ignoring the shouts of the greasy haired bastard resonating for the whole Dungeon.

**September, 12th.**

She tried. She really tried. Every time that they got in the same class she tried to get close to him, she tried to gain a friend, but the only thing that she got were sneers and jealousy, and she was starting to break.

She tried changing objetives, maybe Neville, or Ron, or someone from the second or third year…

But to no avail, she couldn't get pass his housemate's disdain.

And she started to get tired, it was all the same again.

The flying class of today made it even worse, as she berated the Malfoy prat for… Well, being a prat, and stealing from Neville and flying in an attempt to assert his dominance over the other first years and demonstrating that he was above the school authority. It was a first-of-bully tactic, and really pathetic if seen from the outside.

What she got was detention and a broken wrist for trying to recover the rememberball of her classmate, rememberball that now laid in pieces at the broomyard.

She decided that it wasn't worth her time or tears, so she absorbed herself in the books and library.

It wasn't worth.

**September, 19th.**

Harry blocked a disarming charm with a shield of darkness, and with a flick of his wrist, the whole hallway was engulfed in a hastily casted **Create Darkness, **giving him a critical advantage thanks to his **Darksight**.

Three **Lesser Darkness Barrage** after, Malfoy and his two goons were in the floor, unconscious. The only thing he lamented was his spent Zeon, and even that wasn't that big of a deal, given that Hogwarts replenished his reserves rather easily thanks to all the lingering magic in the surroundings.

Sighing, he started running towards the Gryffindor tower, his exploring of the night ruined by the Malfoy runt in a fit of bad luck.

The blonde already challenged him to a duel today, but he refused, given that it would attract _even more_ attention that currently were on his persona thanks to the stunt he pulled on the potions class. Clearly, today was not his day.

At least Hermione stopped trying to compete with him. Honestly, it was rather annoying, but at least after discovering the kitchens thanks to the weasley twins, he didn't had to socialize much, given that now he could skip the feasts.

He would focus on his studies and magic. It got lonely sometimes, but it wasn't something that he wasn't accustomed to, given his life with the dursleys.

Maybe the next year he would make friends, maybe not.

**October, 31th.**

Because Harry didn't socialized with his house, he didn't paid mind to the argument between Ron and Hermione, going directly to the Kitchens with the excuse of the murdering of his parents.

Because Hermione was alone, she didn't told anyone where was she going to, untrusting everyone and everything besides her books.

Because Ron didn't think about the consequences of his actions, he only told what he did at the last moment.

Because she was crying her eyes out, she didn't heard the troll entering the bathroom.


End file.
